


Protest Too Much

by TandomFrash



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, George has low self esteem, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Slow Burn, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, but my god we're just getting started, it's Suffering(TM) time, no beta we die, the comfort is waaaaaay off for now lads, unrequited... or is it? haha... unless?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28529388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TandomFrash/pseuds/TandomFrash
Summary: "The lady doth protest too much, methinks." - Queen Gertrude (Hamlet)Flirting back, laughing it off, it was self-preservation, to protect himself from the inevitable. When Dream made the big reveal, pulled back the curtain and showed it to be a joke, a purely platonic joke, how could George possibly ever show his hand when it was honest and vulnerable. Bluffing was his only choice, now.How long will George be able to hold it together in the face of jokes that hit too close to home, insincere flirting, and falling in love with someone who will never feel the same?
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 66





	1. Wildfire

**Author's Note:**

> I love me some slow burn, intense pining, stamping down your feelings and pretending they're not eating you alive.

It seemed to George that their relationship was most accurately compared to an arms race. A constant game of one-upmanship, how much can they push each other, needle and wheedle into shocked laughter or stuttering embarrassment. And George was fine with that, it was friendly, it was banter, it was just how Dream chose to display his friendship. Constantly calling on him in front of thousands of people to say that he loves him, that he needs him, that he thinks he's cute. George could absolutely turn it around, like calling him 'step-Dream', calling him a simp, the teasing was a two way street, and it was fine. It was fine. Until it wasn't.

It crept up slowly on George, that the scale was tipping, and more of the teasing was coming from Dream, catching him off guard, making him push out a laugh softly and say 'stop'. He didn't notice as it went on, that Dream would keep pushing, forcing George to abruptly turn to chat, to donos, to whatever was going on in the game, anything to turn the conversation away.

George could handle it, he knew he could handle it, it's just how their friendship was, it was just Dream being Dream. There was no use him getting upset, what was there to be upset about, even? He could keep flirting back, keep laughing, keep saying stop, keep ignoring how there was a flicker in his stomach at Dream's tone with him. And that was fine. George was fine. It's just how things are. Teasing is weird sometimes. Friends are weird sometimes. Dream is definitely weird sometimes.

-

"It's because George is in love with me, guys, it's fine, he'll get over it" Dream's smug tone rang out through George's headphones. He rolled his eyes, he'd been streaming for less than half an hour before it had started up this time.

"Oh, obviously," George replied, drolly, "I can't bear to be without you."

"George, you don't mean it with that tone, do you?" Dream feigned being scandalized, "I'm your favorite!"

The buzzing in his stomach was threatening to flare up, George set his jaw and squared his shoulders, ready to fight back.

"I don't think you are, I think you treat me too mean. I'm switching favorites, I'll take applications."

Dream laughs louder, "Switching implies I was your favorite, and I know you could never choose another. You think I'm so cute and smart.."

"Stop," George forces a laugh, keeping his tone even and light.

"George," Dream tested the waters with a darker tone, "You think about me all the time."

George shifted in his seat, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his face still.

"Dream, stop," he tries again, and Dream immediately plays it off with a loud wheezing laugh as the chat goes wild, declaring their ability to see emotions on George's face that weren't there at all. He had to retaliate, get the upper hand again.

"Besides," he adds, after a moment, "If either of us is living rent free in the other's head, it's me in yours."

Dream scoffs "Oh, come on."

"No, no," George continues, emboldened by having the ball in his court, "You're always talking about me, can't go one stream or one day without me, could you?"

"As if!" Dream retorts, and George grins, letting himself feel like he's won this round.

Dream doesn't push back again for the remainder of George's stream, and George feels a rush of relief when he bids goodbye to chat and sees his Twitch page go dark.

Having the last word, some nights it helped. It staved off the strange twist in his gut, the buzz in his chest. In the quiet of the call that lasts after a stream ends, his mind brushed over the calendar, trying to think when precisely it was that it got like this, to the point where not being the one to end the flirtatious banter would leave the back of his neck feeling hot and his hands sweaty.

"You okay, George?" Dream asks, bringing him back to the world.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine," George replies, resting his elbow on his desk and yawning.

"Tired?" Dream adds, and George can hear the smirk and raised eyebrow.

George makes a noncommittal hum in response, and returns to scrolling through his emails for a moment, pointedly ignoring the teasing.

"You should rest," Dream says, softly. George's insides clench uncomfortably at the lilt of his voice, but the spell is broken quickly as he continues in a baby-talk voice with "But give me a goodnight kiss before you go, won't you, Georgie?"

"S-shut up!" George splutters, causing Dream to fall about into peals of laughter.

"Oh man, it's so easy to mess with you!" Dream manages to choke out, recovering from his wheezing fit, "But for real, go to bed, it's like 4am there, right?"

"Yeah, okay. G'night, Dream."

"Goodnight, George."

Discord makes a gentle sound of the call disconnecting and George immediately flushes hot with shame. Dream had got the last word, and not even on stream, just because he could. Just to tease, just to mess with him.

And for the first time, George sat back in his chair, and let himself wonder why. Wonder why he was finding it harder lately to fight back, to raise the stakes. Introspection and openness with emotions not being George's strong suit, he sat with furrowed brow, staring down the small pink elephant on his desk. Was he feeling got at, almost bullied? No, Dream was his friend, he was more certain of that than anything, he wouldn't be doing this unless he thought it was okay, thought it was funny.

 _So why isn't it funny anymore?_ he thought to himself, picking up the elephant and turning it over in his fingers. Dream does it to all his friends, some more than others, calling them cute, asking for cuddles and kisses, even Sapnap was the same, and it was a joke, wasn't it? Why was it starting to stick in his head after streams and recording sessions? Why were there moments where he felt almost sick from being caught off-guard?

'Y _ou should rest'_ , plays again in his mind, a soft American voice, seemingly laden with care. Quiet and gentle, and there went his stomach again, jumping and lurching. George let the rest of the sentence run, the baby-talk asking for a kiss, then the laughter. And _that_ was when it started to hurt.

His fingers stopped turning the elephant and it slipped from his hands with a clatter onto the desk. And things started to make sense.

George didn't know when it had happened, but fighting back was no longer a game. It was a survival tactic. Somehow in the middle of everything, he had started hoping for something stupid, he was desperate for Dream's voice to sound sincere. He wanted him to mean it.

Flirting back, laughing it off, it was self-preservation, to protect himself from the inevitable. When Dream made the big reveal, pulled back the curtain and showed it to be a joke, a purely platonic joke, how could George possibly ever show his hand when it was honest and vulnerable. Bluffing was his only choice, now.

He carefully picked up and placed the elephant next to his monitor again, chest aching and head spinning. It seemed to him, now, that their relationship was not an arms race, not two equal powers throwing grenades back and forth. Dream undoubtedly had the upper hand, and George's only hope was to delay the spread. It was a wildfire, and he was being consumed.


	2. Practicality

The next morning (well, morning for him), George chewed his cereal slowly and carefully, watching Cat as they curled up in a stray sunbeam. He was a practical man, and he knew he needed to have a plan.

The first step was full acceptance, so he said aloud to himself in the quiet of the kitchen, "I have a crush on my best friend."

He nodded, okay, that was step one. He didn't feel horrible. Sure, it wasn't _fantastic,_ sort of like a stickiness caught on the inside of his stomach and chest, but it didn't hurt. Pretending he wasn't feeling this would be worse, he had decided, so with the first bit out of the way, he needed to consider the trickier aspects of this.

Dream was not only his best friend, but a solid piece of his career. It simply wouldn't work to pretend like distance would help, it just wouldn't be feasible. First, there would be his income, without streaming he would be relying on savings, if not fully insolvent. But with streaming, he would incur endless questions about why he wasn't hanging out with Dream as much, or why people hadn't seen him in his streams or videos. And, of course, it would be too obvious to the man himself. Dream would be bound to suspect something was up if he went MIA for a couple of weeks, no lie he could think of would suffice. So then, it would have to be business as usual. For how long?

_Well,_ he thought bitterly to himself, _just as long as it takes for this to run its course._

Memories of school reared up in his mind, unbidden and unpleasant. Most of the time he had had crushes on people not in his friend group, easy enough to deal with, a longing glance here and there in a few lessons, maybe bump into them in the corridor, but the time he had developed feelings for someone in his circle of friends at the tender age of 16, it had been catastrophic. Their tight knit group of 7 was blown apart by the fallout of her rejecting George, resulting in a splintering that lasted into sixth form. He hadn't meant for any of that to happen, it was no one's fault entirely, being young and inexperienced about existing in a world alongside other humans, they both reacted badly to him asking her out. Her, with shock and maybe, if he was feeling particularly upset, disgust, and him, with enduring embarrassment and awkwardness. They just didn't know how to act alongside each other after that. Things became too tense for the rest of their friends' liking, and an unplanned drifting occurred into new groups. George still remembered the quiet ache of their Year 11 prom, watching her from afar, feelings still raw.

No, he decided, most of the time telling someone how you felt was pointless. In the endless roll of the cosmic dice, the odds of someone reciprocating your attraction must be stacked almost infinitely against you. And besides, this was new. That's why admitting it to himself was so important, he would need to monitor it carefully. With luck, it would be over almost before it began, leaving no time for him to set off a landmine in what was not only the beating heart of all his friendships, but also his career.

He shuddered at the messy implications of not treating this like the live grenade it was. It was the Dream SMP, not the GeorgeNotFound SMP, he knew if the chips were down where people's loyalties would lie. The splintering of that group would be his undoing in every way.

The last of his soggy cereal stared back at him from his bowl, suddenly making him nauseous. He pushed it away and drank some cold water.

At least the gender of his intended wasn't entirely unexpected, George didn't think he could have handled it if this was his first crush on someone who didn't identify as female. There was the agonizing first year of sixth form where the gorgeous and gender non-conforming Jez had his head spinning from their low voice and high skirts. As University had progressed, his eyes were drawn to boys, girls, all kinds, and after confiding in some very close friends, he realized he was fine with it. It was just another thing to be practical about.

George got up and went to lie on the floor beside Cat, joining them in the enjoyment of the strong afternoon sun fizzing its way across the carpet. He closed his eyes and made a mental list. The newness of these feelings was in his favor. As was, oddly, not knowing what Dream looked like. No one knowing about his feelings, that was good, too (he wouldn't consider fan theories that caught at the edge of reality to be truth, but he wouldn't think about the epistemological implications of that). But against him was the constant contact, Dream's insatiable naturally flirtatious attitude, and just how long it had been since he'd even been on a _date,_ let alone been kissed.

He realized this was the mark against him easiest to rectify, and so cracking open an eye against the sunlight, he dug his phone from his pocket and downloaded a couple of dating apps.

George sighed and absent-mindedly played with Cat's ear until they were purring gently.

"I've got this, don't I?" he asked, softly, to the delighted feline buzzing beside his head, "Yeah, I've got this."

His phone vibrated in his hand, and he saw a new Discord message from Sapnap.

**Sapnap**   
_fuckin around on the SMP rn, gonna stream soon, just me and Dream atm, u in?_

No time like the present, George thought, firing back a quick _'absolutely, omw'_. So he rose, pressing a kiss to Cat's head, and made his way to his PC.

Sitting down and pulling his headphones on, George felt strong. He would need an iron resolve and a straight face to keep this up, just until it went away of course. He could do that. He could absolutely do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah George this is gonna go great for you im sure


	3. Counter

As soon as George joined the call he was met with Sapnap's voice yelling "GOGYYYY" so loud his microphone peaked.

"Ow. Yes, hi, I'm here," George huffed, loading the game, "You live yet?"

"Not yet," Sapnap replied.

"Hello to you, too, Dream?" George tried, cautiously.

"Oh, hey!" Dream replied, his voice moving closer to his mic, "Sorry I was just sorting something."

Sapnap snickered knowingly, but before George could open his mouth to ask, Sapnap had gone live, and was enthusiastically greeting the chat as people flooded in.

Their plan was to dig out a new tunnel system underneath the SMP, a mindless and tedious task that meant the three of them could use the time to answer questions from donations, chat, and Twitter.

"I have a question for Dream," the robotic voice of Sapnap's donation reader began, and for some reason, George's hackles were already up, "What's your type?"

Dream laughed heartily, "My type? Okay, okay, so, soft brown hair, big brown eyes," George's insides twisted uncomfortably, he could tell where this was going, he fought off a wince as Dream continued, voice saccharine, "posh British accent, maybe some sort of degree in Computer Science..."

The chat was running rampant.

"Hilarious," George deadpanned, as Dream and Sapnap fell about laughing.

"Georgie, nooo" Dream whined, character appearing beside George on screen and throwing roses at his feet, "Don't turn me down, look, I brought you red roses and everything!"

George smacked Dream with his sword, "Shove off, this is non-consensual courting, get those flowers out of here."

Dream laughed harder, "George, I can't believe you're turning me down after I've just said you're just my type, we know I'm yours, too."

"Dream that doesn't mean anything," Sapnap interjects, "Tall, blonde quarterback is everyone's type."

"Oh god Sapnap don't tell him that, his ego is already unbearable," George groaned, he could practically hear Dream's smug smile.

"What can I say, I'm a hot commodity," Dream sighed, overdramatically.

At this point, George, having had quite enough of all that, turned in-game and shot him with his enchanted Flame bow, causing Dream to yelp as he caught fire, and Sapnap to fall about laughing.

"There you go," George grinned, " _Now_ you're a hot commodity."

* * *

  
Hours later as the three of them enjoyed the quiet down-time in between streams, George found himself picking up the small quartz elephant again, and turning it around and around in his fingers.

"Karl's doing a Jackbox stream later, that'll be a mess, you in Georgie?" Sapnap asked after a while.

"What time?" he replied, not taking his eyes off the elephant.

"9pm Eastern, 2am for you," Sapnap replied.

"Yeah, that gives me time to get some food and maybe work on some code. Will you be there, Dream?"

"Hmm?" came the slightly distant, distracted reply, "Uh, no, sorry, I've actually got a thing this evening."

Sapnap snickered again and George raised an eyebrow, "Okay, going to tell us what?"

"Maybe soon," Dream replied.

"All right Gandalf, keep your secrets!" George teased, but he felt a strange tugging, he had more than a small suspicion that Sapnap knew whatever this 'thing' was, but wasn't saying, "I'm going to head off, I'll see you later, Sap, and Dream, talk later?"

The other boys bid their goodbyes and George left the voice channel and placed the elephant back where it lived by his monitor again.

George tried not to let his mind wander as he sat on the kitchen countertops, waiting for the oven to pre-heat, but even scrolling through Twitter and checking Discord left the background hum of his thoughts to run onward unchecked. The stream hadn't gone too badly, he hadn't let himself get too caught up in Dream telling him he was just his type. What if Dream did have a type? Would it really be brown hair? Surely even if the girls Dream had dated looked anything like George he would feel better about it. George rolled his eyes at how pathetic and desperate that thought was.

"Come on," he chided himself aloud in a whisper, "He's straight. So archetypally, obviously straight."

But despite hearing his own voice remind him of the truth, his head unhelpfully continued to supply flashes of a big all-American smile, and a bouquet of real red roses, lightly perfumed and perfectly bloomed, being held out for him to take.

 _Enough, enough, enough_ , he thought, moving suddenly off the countertop to grab a pen and rushing to the fridge. Roughly pulling the pen cap off with his teeth, he added a large number one to that day on the calendar, circling it aggressively a few times.

Stepping back and spitting the pen cap into his other hand, he nodded determinedly. This was just day one, he would count out the days until it wasn't a problem anymore. Because how long was a crush, really? A couple of months? By the time he scribbled a big 100 on his calendar, this would be over. He could celebrate (privately, inwardly) having successfully navigated a potentially disastrous situation.

 _And if not..?_ the tiniest voice in his mind tried to supply, but he retaliated by shaking his head, as if he could physically remove the thought from of his body entirely. It _would_ be over by a hundred, of course it would. By then he would have been on a few dates, would have made an effort to call friends and family more often, watched seasons and seasons of some stupid TV shows, as well as had a few wanks (just to be sure).

It had to be just a crush, it had to be transient.

The alternative didn't bear thinking about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge shout out to Krizlynn whose comment on the other chapters literally made my day! If you also want to severely positively impact the mood of a total stranger, please feel free to Kudos, Bookmark, or Comment ~<3


	4. Just jokes?

In George's preoccupation to steel himself against interactions directly with Dream, he had forgotten, foolishly, the nature of his friendship group, and their tenacity when it came to running jokes. And George, of course, had to play along, as every other answer in the Jackbox stream devolved into explicit and pandering jokes about George and Dream sleeping together.

"Oh my God, this is ridiculous!" George exclaimed, trying to laugh and cover his annoyance as Quackity's answer of "DNF" won for a Quiplash prompt asking for new names for oral.

Raucous shrieking laughter seared his ears through his headphones as George put his forehead on his desk, glad at least that he wasn't streaming so only had to keep his voice in check for signs of being upset.

"George, George," Quackity choked through laughter, "Dude don't blame me, look at the audience votes."

"Shall we switch to another game for a final showdown, guys?" Karl suggested as the final scores rolled by.

"Absolutely," George replied, "We cannot continue letting Quackity think he's the funniest out of us."

They decided on Drawful, to George's secret relief, and played on for another hour before calling it quits.

"That was great, Karl, thanks so much for letting us hang out," Sapnap offered, in the quiet of the Discord call once Karl was offline.

"No worries, I love spending time with you guys!" Karl replied, cheerily.

"Genuine feelings? In my Sex Havers chat?" Quackity said, making puking noises into the mic.

"You're right, sorry sorry, this purely business relationship has no room for feelings," Karl deadpanned.

George chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair, eyes flickering over his desk and a tiny quartz elephant.

"Speaking of," Karl added, "George, it got a bit graphic there at times, it's still all good man, right?"

"What?" George sat up suddenly, shoving down a flicker of panic, "No, absolutely, it's hilarious! And the audience eats it up."

"That they do," Quackity agreed.

"Yeah, I know Dream sometimes gets a bit upset by it, so I wanted to check in," Karl said.

"He does?" George's brows furrowed.

"Yeah," Sapnap supplied, "It kinda defeats the point of the game, he says, which I get."

"Right, yeah, totally," George nodded, knowing they couldn't see him, "But no, I think it's so funny, it's just jokes, after all."

"Unlike me and Karl, right baby?!" Sapnap yelled, making aggressive smooching noises right into the mic, causing the other boys to laugh.

"That's my cue, lads," George chucked, "It's stupid o' clock here, I've got to sleep."

Goodbyes chorused out, and George disconnected, leaving him to his quiet room.

He never fully got used to brushing his teeth and climbing into bed after sunrise, circadian rhythms shrieking confusedly from somewhere deep in his brain, and as he settled down (blessing the invention of blackout curtains), his eyes were so heavy so suddenly.

The last thoughts on his mind were how strange the white lies had tasted.

_No, it's hilarious._

_I think it's funny._

_It's just jokes, after all._

Slightly bitter. Like the charred end of food left too long in the oven. Like unsweetened tea. Like something that, if repeated, would taste worse and worse.

 _It **is** funny_, George reminded himself, _even with how I feel right now, it's just a little crush. It's just jokes. Not serious._ His eyelids fluttered closed as he surrendered to slumber.

_Just jokes. Not serious._

* * *

  
Three weeks later, George stood before the calendar on his fridge, cuddling Cat in his arms like a baby. Hair messed up, looking considerably more tired, he narrowed his eyes as he stared down the number '21' that he had just scrawled on that day.

Day 3 they had recorded a new manhunt, leaving George flushed and giggling at the way Dream had been screaming his name as he ran after him with murderous intent.

Day 9 there had been a big SMP lore stream, and George had been lurking in Tommy's chat, listening intently to Dream's serious voice, the way he enunciated through pretend rage making his arms spring into goosebumps.

Day 13 he and George had spent a full 27 hours in a Discord call, leaving it running while they slept, popped in and out to get food and go to the bathroom, editing in amicable silence, and sending memes and giggling sleepily for more than a solid day.

Day 17 they had hung out with Bad on his stream, teasing and annoying him until tears of laughter were running down George's cheeks.

Day 19 and 20 they had tried to communicate only via the medium of emojis, finally failing when George received an all caps message yelling about how Dream had spent the last 30 minutes thinking how to say 'I've lost my only spatula', causing George to nearly topple off his chair from giggling.

All this alongside daily calls, Snapchats, Discord group chats, Tweets, and iMessages, making determinedly sure that there was not even the slightest hint of him avoiding Dream.

"Still early days, isn't it, you silly fluff monster?" he nuzzled at Cat's head with his nose, "This is exactly how it was before, yeah? Totally manageable."

He sighed, looking deep into Cat's glassy eyes, seeing the curve of his own reflection and the kitchen lights on the ceiling, until the feline started fussing and squirming and he set them gently on the floor.

 _It's probably going away_ , he thought to himself, _slowly but surely. He's just a good laugh, really flirty, and my best friend. It's just jokes. Surface level. Lighthearted. A little crush._

Checking his phone for the time (5:32am), he dismissed the notification that Dream had gone live about 4 hours ago, only for it to reveal a Discord DM from the last two minutes.

**Dream**

_you awake?_

George tapped out a reply

_u know i am :]_

He watched carefully as 'Dream is tying...' bubbled across the bottom of the screen. It flickered a few times and George raised an eyebrow. Dream wasn't usually one to back out of sending a message, rather throw it into the world and the consequences be damned.

Finally, something appeared.

**Dream**

_can we talk? I just need your advice_

Heart in his throat, brain chanting that somehow, despite 3 weeks of high-intensity nonchalance, his cover was blown and his stupid tiny heart-fluttering crush revealed, he made his way to his room, tapping out a quick ' _sounds srs lol, ok, one second_ ' in a desperate attempt to diffuse any tension.

Before he could sit down at his desk, his phone started buzzing and he lifted it to his ear, accepting the call.

"Hello? Dream?" he asked, cautiously.

"Hey, George."

The reply was quiet, his tone understated, lacking the usual energy. He sounded beaten down and.. upset?

"Are you okay?" George asked, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Yeah? Maybe. Well, like..." there was an exasperated sigh, "No. Not right now."

"It's okay," George said, gently, "You can tell me about it, if you want. If it helps?"

He heard a deep breath on the other end of the call. George knew that sound, Dream's thoughts were like an hourglass, getting bunched up and bottlenecked at the junction between his brain and his mouth, he knew he just needed to give quiet and space, so he waited.

"So I was just streaming, right? I know, for like the first time in just about forever, and I wanted to just try and beat the game and talk to chat and respond to donos and stuff, and it was great, and I'm always so grateful for everything that I have, you know I am so grateful, I don't know how I got this lucky, and I love all of them, literally all of them, and I just wonder..." Dream's incredibly quick words came to an abrupt halt.

"What do you wonder, Dream?" George replied, quietly.

There was a moment of silence.

"Are we doing enough, George?"

"Doing enough?" he prompted, confused.

Dream made the sigh again, the almost-panicked breath of too much inside and no way to get it out.

"It's okay, Dream, just take a step back. What happened?"

"It.. it was a dono I didn't get to. From a kid, god, they said they were only 12, jeez that's younger than my _sister_ ," Dream voice wobbled slightly as he spoke, "They were saying how sad they were. How I'm like the only thing keeping them going. Me, George, me and my dumb videos, and my stupid ideas, just fucking around on the internet, and this kid, this _child_ , they feel like that's all they've got."

George heard Dream take another deep, slightly rattling breath, and he felt a familiar sting of tears readying themselves behind his eyes, too.

"So many of them, George. They're so much younger than us, and they're in so much pain, and they're so sad, having just the worst times, and I just wonder if we're doing enough. To keep them... to keep them here."

"Dream.." George breathed, momentarily unsure of what to say.

"I know, it's so stupid, I'm sor-"

"No," George interrupted, "No, this isn't stupid. This is the most un-stupid thing, I promise. Don't ever apologize to me for how you feel," the words rushed out with almost too much sincerity.

"Thank you," came the almost inaudible reply, and then a tiny sniffle betrayed Dreams tears from an ocean away.

"It's a lot, I get it. I see them, too, the donations and the messages, and I worry sometimes that maybe something gets missed, and if the worst happens then it could be my fault. But you can't let yourself think like that. It's too much, it would destroy you."

"You think about it, too?"

"All of us do, I'm sure of it, seeing people confiding in us that they're depressed, and anxious, and trapped, it's so much. And.. I always remind myself of two things," George shuffled back on his bed and leant against the headboard, looking out the window to the slowly brightening dawn sky.

"First," he continued, "and this is the harder one, is that at the end of the day, it's not our job to be a therapist, and that sucks, I know," George rushed, hearing Dream take in a breath to argue, "But it's true. We just play video games. It's great that people find comfort in what we do, but as hard as it is, you can't carry those messages with you every day. It's not fair for them to put their whole world on us like that, and it's not fair to ourselves to hold onto it, you know?"

"I guess..." came the unsure reply, "Then, the second?"

"The second," George ran his hands over the sheets of his bed, feeling the bobbles and wrinkles under his fingers, "Is that if us being dumb on the internet is enough to keep even one person here, then we have done infinite good."

There was quiet on the call for a moment.

"George..." Dream sounded breathless, like someone had swept all the air from his lungs, "That's beautiful."

George flushed and rubbed the sheets harder, "I-it's whatever.."

"No, it's beautiful, George, that's just so.. so real."

George buried his hot face into his knees, taken aback by Dream's genuinely affected tone.

"You're so kind, Dream," he mumbles, "You don't deserve for this to weigh you down."

"Thank you, George. I knew I could talk to you about this."

"Anytime. I'm here for you. About anything."

"I'll let you get to sleep now, I know I caught you just when George.exe is shutting down."

George giggled lightly, "Okay. Only if you're sure you're all right now?"

"Yeah, I am," Dream's smile was audible, "So, so much better."

"Good, I'm glad. Anytime, I mean it. Goodnight, Dream."

"Goodnight, George."

The call disconnected and George slid down onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

Lighthearted. Friendly. Flirty. Banter. Just jokes.

Kindness. Creativity. Compatibility. Depth. Connection.

Not just jokes.

Something stronger.

" _Fuck._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back at it again out of nowhere with an update  
> (sorry for my schedule, let's see if i can be more consistent)
> 
> (also i love you be well out there)


End file.
